Christmas Whisperings
by Lirenel
Summary: A Christmas Eve service, and a nighttime ritual, give Mr. Pevensie an insight into the lives of his children. Any warnings can be found on my profile.
1. Haste, haste to bring him laud

**Title: **Christmas Whisperings**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.**  
Note: **I guess it's my turn to post my Narnia Christmas story. I tried to make it sort of a companion piece to "Easter Whisperings", which was from Mrs. Pevensie's point of view. This one is Mr. Pevensie's. It actually started out as a one-shot, but then I wrote an introduction that turned into another one-shot. So, it's a two-shot. =D I also had to deal with the fact that in "Easter Whisperings", Susan is already disbelieving in Narnia before the war ended, so I had to figure out how to fit her in here. Hope it worked.

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Jonathon Pevensie, newly arrived home from the war, felt something of a disconnect with his return. After five years of war, of death and blood and fire, he now found himself back in his home, with his wife and four children, about to celebrate Christmas with loved ones once again.

Only, so much was different now. He expected the landscape of England to have changed; how could it not after years of bombing? He expected his wife to be greyer, his children to be older. Still, he had not expected his children to be _so_ much older. Peter was now tall and broad-shouldered, and would soon be heading to university; but he was not a young man, finding his way in the world, as would be expected; he was an adult, confident in his actions and holding himself with a stateliness few of even older generations possessed. Edmund, loud, boisterous Edmund, was now quiet and held a dignified air that seemed out of place in the fourteen-year old. Mr. Pevensie could barely bring himself to look in his son's dark, old eyes that held too much wisdom. And little Lucy, once so fragile and small, now burst with such joy that, at first, Mr. Pevensie would find himself staring in awe at his little girl who was no longer a child.

Of his children, only Susan seemed her age. She giggled with her friends, and went to parties, and experimented with what makeup she could afford. Only, in brief moments of clarity, Mr. Pevensie could not help but think that this was a mask, that Susan was hiding the same _otherness_ of her siblings. His wife, Helen, agreed, telling him how all four children had returned from the evacuation with the noble air that three now held. Susan had drifted from her siblings, had lost the nobility, but Mr. Pevensie rather thought that it was only biding its time before it emerged again.

All in all, his children left Mr. Pevensie at a loss as to how to act in his own home. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy seemed to need only each other. Susan wanted so badly to be grown-up that she removed herself from the others as much as she could. Only now, on Christmas Eve, did she deign to join her family. Almost idly, Mr. Pevensie wished that Susan would join them with more than just her physical presence, that she might let the mask drop at least for one night. He did not think it likely.

Still, as they sat in the candle-lit church, listening to the choir sing, Mr. Pevensie felt much of his distress and confusion melt away. He listened to the music, felt it flow over him like a gentle river, freeing his heart as it had not been for many years. Beside him sat Peter and, as Mr. Pevensie looked at his son, he saw that Peter's face was one of enrapture as the young man closed his eyes and hummed along with the choir.

On Peter's other side, Edmund leaned close to his brother's side, one hand clutching the wooden cross he always wore around his neck. Mrs. Pevensie could only tell her husband that, after one Easter holiday, Peter had carved the cross for his little brother, with "For Us a Son is Given" engraved in tiny letters along the sides. As far as Mr. Pevensie could tell, Edmund never took it off.

Susan sat next to Edmund, her hands held primly in her lap. Mr. Pevensie could not help but sigh, seeing that she clearly did not want to be in the church. Her eyes were shadowed as she stared at the floor, and Mr. Pevensie felt his heart ache at the hopeless look on her face. _Lord, please, help her see Your light this Christmas._

Helen Pevensie sat next to her eldest daughter, bookending the family. Mr. Pevensie still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, despite the grey beginning to pepper her hair, and the lines that now graced her face that had not been there five years before. If there was one thing that had kept Mr. Pevensie alive and sane through the agony of war, it was the hope that he would be able to spend at least one more Christmas with his wife.

Lucy did not sit with her family. Instead, she stood, dressed in a snow-white robe, with the choir in the front of the church. Mr. Pevensie watched with a proud smile as she stood to sing one of the last carols of the evening. _What child is this, who lay to rest, on Mary's lap is sleeping…_ The voices of the choir rose to the heavens through the first verse, waning as Lucy stepped forward to sing the second part on her own:

_Why lies He in such mean estate, where ox and lamb are feeding?  
Good Christian, fear, for sinners here, the silent world is pleading._

Mr. Pevensie listened with awe as his daughter's sweet voice floated through the church. He felt his other children straighten beside him, saw even Susan's eyes lock onto their sister. Lucy smiled back as she sang, as if singing for them and them alone. Her voice rose and Mr. Pevensie nearly gasped as he heard such heart-breaking feeling flow in her words

_Nails, spear shall pierce him through, the cross He bore for me for you,  
Hail, Hail, the Word made flesh, the babe the son of Mary._

Lucy stepped back as the choir continued with the third verse, but Mr. Pevensie no longer listened. Instead he looked at his children, wondering at the effect this song had on them. Peter smiled, proud of the flawless singing of his sister. Edmund's face was more clouded, sad eyes drifting over to Susan.

It was in Susan that Mr. Pevensie saw the greatest reaction. A tear slid down her cheek, and her hand almost absently stroked the fur coat that lay across her lap. He watched as Edmund, fingers shaking in hesitancy, gently clasped Susan's other hand in his own. Mr. Pevensie looked on in delight as Susan squeezed her brother's hand and gave him a shaky smile. Peter noticed and laid his arm around Edmund's shoulders, and his siblings moved their clasped hands so that Peter's hand could cover theirs. All three turned their faces to the choir, where Lucy beamed back at them. For a moment, Mr. Pevensie felt the connection between all four of his children, as tangible as the hands that three held together.

And, though the moment ended as Susan released her brothers' hands and the choir concluded the service with _Silent Night_, Mr. Pevensie thought that the beauty of that sight would stay with him forever.

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"What Child is This" is my favorite Christmas song. The verse I have Lucy sing always gives me chills.


	2. Sleep in heavenly peace

Thanks to ilysia who inspired part of this chapter with her totally awesome, wonderful story "Under a Foreign Sun".

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Returning home from the Christmas Eve service, the Pevensie household held an air of peace that had been missing for too long. The children happily opened the gifts from each other, in anticipation of the next day's presents. As had apparently become tradition while Mr. Pevensie was away, Lucy read the Christmas story from the Bible as her brothers sat close on either side. Even Susan rested near, laying her dark head on Edmund's shoulder.

Despite the lovely picture his children made, he frowned in confusion as Lucy moved from the Christmas story to that of the Passion and Resurrection. When he looked at his wife, though, Helen just shook her head, silently telling him not to question their daughter. Apparently this too was a new tradition.

After Lucy finished, Peter herded his siblings to bed. Helen followed soon after, always the morning bird who started falling asleep even before her children. Mr. Pevensie just sat in his chair, staring into the still-lit fireplace. Though during the war Helen had started putting out the Christmas presents in the early morning, before the children woke, Mr. Pevensie wanted to have that joy himself this year. As, unlike his wife, he was not one to wake before he had to, he decided to stay up until he was sure everyone was asleep before playing Father Christmas.

.

A little over an hour later, just as he was thinking it was time to begin, Mr. Pevensie heard creaking in the hallways. Smiling he got up from his chair, thinking that one of the children, likely Lucy, had snuck down to see if Father Christmas had arrived yet. Instead, as he peeked out into the foyer, he saw Peter and Edmund. The boys didn't look like they were going to inspect the tree, however. To Mr. Pevensie's confusion, they were pulling on their coats, hats, gloves, and boots, as if they were about to go outside.

Keeping back so they wouldn't notice him, Mr. Pevensie listened to their conversation. Peter tugged on Edmund's hat for him. "Do you think Lucy can convince her to come?" he asked in a low voice.

Edmund sighed. "I think…perhaps maybe this year she will. At least we have more hope this time, after Su came back during the service."

While Mr. Pevensie puzzled over what 'came back' meant, Peter nodded. "I hope you're right. It's just not the same with one of us taking her part."

Edmund was prevented from answering as Lucy crept down the stairs. Three grins almost lit the room as Susan followed her sister. The boys helped the girls bundle up, and they quietly slipped out of the house.

Mr. Pevensie, anxious as to what his children were doing leaving the house in the dead of night in the freezing cold, quickly threw on his own winter clothing and followed them. It was easy to follow without being seen, as they were the only ones outside in the quiet night. The four children walked silently down the road to the small park two blocks over. They stopped beneath a copse of young trees, which had been planted not long before after a bomb had destroyed the old garden.

He watched as the children arranged themselves in a diamond, Peter facing Lucy and Edmund facing Susan. Though their noses were red from cold and they were bundled in layers of thick clothes, their faces were serene and almost…regal. Mr. Pevensie watched as Peter lifted his gloved hands, palms up, before him as he spoke. "Narnians, gather and listen, for the stars sing and Christmas comes in the morn."

His three siblings answered in chorus, though Mr. Pevensie noticed that Susan spoke in near a whisper. "We are gathered with thee under the stars. Speak and we shall hear."

Mr. Pevensie gazed at his eldest son, who lowered his hands and drew himself into a posture that made his previous stateliness seem common in comparison. Peter's voice rang out, stern and brilliant and joyful all at once.

_I am Peter; a servant of Aslan, who named me High King above kings of Narnia, past and future. Hear now of the first Christmas. _With a shiver, Mr. Pevensie realized that this declaration did not seem outrageous or mad; instead he rather felt that he himself was acting improperly in not bowing before his own son.

_Six months into the first year of the reign of King Frank I and Queen Helen, the days began growing darker. Night came earlier in each day, and the sun grew colder as winter approached for the first time. The Narnians, to whom winter was unknown, grew fearful, thinking that the sun would wane until it disappeared completely; not even the words of their king and queen could reassure them._

_Then, on the darkest night of the year, an old man arrived in Narnia, driving a sledge pulled by northern reindeer. His face was stern, but joyful, as he approached King Frank and Queen Helen and the Narnians. "I bring you greetings from Aslan, my friends. Greetings and gifts. This is the longest, coldest night, when hope of light and life seems farthest away. But I bring this present from the East: by Aslan's decree, this will be a day of feasting and gift-giving, for this day marks when the sun begins growing in strength. It is a day of hope; hope for the return of the sun and for the return of Aslan. Remember, friends, that the darkest days of Narnia will fall away at the command of the Lion."_

_And so Father Christmas, as he was named in the tongue of King Frank and Queen Helen's first home, gave out presents to every Narnian, to remind them of Aslan's promise. So we celebrate Christmas._

As he finished, the others echoed his words, "So we celebrate Christmas." Mr. Pevensie saw three pairs of eyes look to Edmund, whose face was stern and unyielding as he spoke:

_I am Edmund; a servant of Aslan, who forgave me my treason and made me king. Hear now of the lost Christmas. _He wasn't sure why, but Edmund's words, his tone of voice, caused a pit of sadness to grow in Mr. Pevensie's heart, though he did not know whether it was from the unyielding judgment that echoed when Edmund spoke of treason or the grief when he declared Christmas lost.

_Nine hundred years after the creation of Narnia, her people faded from faith in their Creator. The Narnians forgot Aslan, and forgot that Christmas was Aslan's promise: their greedy eyes saw their presents only as deserved possessions. The Kings of Narnia neglected the Tree of Protection, which guarded their land from the evil that grew in strength beyond the borders. _

_The Tree fell on Christmas Eve, and the Narnians woke that Christmas to find, not presents, but chains. For Jadis, the White Witch, had come to Narnia. She brought with her ice and terror and endless darkness. By her evil power, she made Narnia into a land of perpetual snow. One hundred years of winter followed, and the saying became "always winter, never Christmas", for the Witch's dark magic kept out Father Christmas and her tyranny prevented even mothers and fathers from giving gifts to their children._

Edmund's voice changed, from grief to a fierce determination that blazed in his eyes._  
She could not destroy hope, though, and Christmas lay buried in the hearts of those who remembered Aslan's promise: that the dark days would fall away again. So we awaited Christmas._

Again his siblings echoed his words, "So we awaited Christmas." There was a longer pause after this, and a tension rose among the group. Susan, whose turn it obviously was, shivered, though Mr. Pevensie did not think it was from the cold. Finally, just as Mr. Pevensie thought she was going to break and run from the others, Susan took a deep breath and spoke, her voice so low that he had a hard time hearing her.

_I am Susan; a servant of Aslan, who strengthened me and made me queen. Hear now of the new Christmas. _Oh, how Susan's voice shook when she called herself a servant of Aslan! But the words hung in the air, as if reminding the world that, beneath the mask of denial, truth survived.

_At the end of that Hundred Year Winter, Aslan returned as He promised. Father Christmas followed, renewing the vow of the return of life and light. He gave gifts to the Narnians, gifts for the faith that they had shown in Aslan. On that day, Narnia rejoiced for their good fortune and wonderful presents._

_Those gifts included the fulfillment of another prophecy, that of the fall of the White Witch. Two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve entered Narnia, and fought under the Lion's banner. Father Christmas gave them gifts as well; not toys as children would enjoy, but the instruments through which they would protect Narnia and heal her wounds. _

_And as winter melted into spring once more, Aslan triumphed over the Witch and renewed His promise of hope, the promise that we now celebrate this darkest day. So we rejoice in Christmas._

There was such joy in Peter, Edmund, and Lucy's faces as they echoed "So we rejoice in Christmas." Susan's eyes were wide, as if surprised she was able to speak at all. In fact, her eyes remained wide as she looked with her brothers towards their youngest sibling. The radiance that always seemed to rest in Lucy's face had magnified tenfold, and Mr. Pevensie had to turn away for a moment as she spoke.

_I am Lucy; a servant of Aslan, who loves me and made me queen. Hear now of the True Christmas. _

_For centuries, Narnians have celebrated Christmas as the symbol of Aslan's promise, that the darkness would not endure, that light and warmth would come again. Each year He fulfills this promise by bringing spring. Twenty years ago He fulfilled the promise even further, by bringing Narnia out of the dark and cold of the White Witch. _

_In truth, though, His promise was not about the seasons, was not even about the White Witch. His promise concerns that which affects us all - death. It is the final darkness, which descends upon each Narnian in their turn. Death frightens us, as that first winter frightened our ancestors. But Aslan has given his promise: that death will fall away at His command and we will be renewed in life and light._

_Death has already been defeated once. In the year of Christmas's return, Aslan gave His life to save a traitor during the darkest part of the night; but in the morning He conquered death and returned the light. As He did then, He will do again. So we truly know Christmas._

Mr. Pevensie found himself whispering "So we truly know Christmas" along with his children. Even though he did not know what Narnia was, did not know this Aslan, he instinctively understood that these words were why Lucy read the Easter story alongside that of Christmas.

Any other night, any other time of the year, and Mr. Pevensie imagined he might be disturbed by this recitation. Surely a Christmas story without Christ was heathen and disturbing. But, as he stared at his children, whose faces held the same glow of happiness they had in church not a few hours before, he rather thought that the story of endless winter and the conquest of death was not that far from the Truth.

Mr. Pevensie was pulled from his thoughts as Peter spoke again. "May Aslan fulfill his promise this year, and every year, until the final vow is realized and we meet Him in His country. Go, now, Narnians and be of good cheer, for Christmas comes again and Aslan has blessed this day. Praise Aslan!"

"Praise Aslan!" chorused the others, and Mr. Pevensie slipped away so that he might return home before the children noticed his presence. He had much to think about, much to pray over…not to mention presents to set out under the Christmas tree.

Had he stayed, Mr. Pevensie might have seen his children embrace each other tightly, smiles on all four faces. He might have watched them walk hand in hand back to the house. And he might have heard the soft purr of a lion drift down from the bright stars, washing over his children as they went to sleep, awaiting the promise of a new day.

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I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

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